Seven Deadly Sins
by J.L.Lunar
Summary: The girls descend from a line of Witches, unbeknownst to them. However, when it comes to grasping these powers, demonic forces remain in their way. Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup must face their fiercest desires, and stand away from sin and betrayal. Reds, Greens, and Blues. Rated for dark themes, cursing. Rating may change.
1. Bloody Beginnings

"Slime and snails," women whispered, their voices meshing together over the whispering winds. All of their hands raised in unison as they continued their chants. "Puppy dog tails," one woman stepped forward, stretching her hand wide over the boiling cauldron that remained at their center. A few severed stumps tumbled from her grasp, causing the potion to boil and froth over.

"Thunder and lightning!" their voices rose into a horrendous echo, as they sky complied to their statement. Overhead it crackled and popped, highlighting their features. Each differed greatly, but all head large cowls pulled up, a sign of semblance.

Then it was done. The storm died down, and all the women stepped up, vials clasped in their hands. Each took their turn, dunking their glass within, obtaining the fruits of their joint labor. Filing away, they met with friends, sharing discussions. One woman, however, did not bother to linger, but bundled up her cloak and skirts, attempting to leave unnoticed.

"Sister," a voice hissed, and the escaping woman halted in her tracks. She turned backwards, eyes wide with fright. The woman lowered back her cowl, revealing long, rope-like hairs that fell down about her eyes. She had dark skin, the whites of her eyes being ever more prominent for this.

"Yes," she whispered, barely audible as she faced the woman who affronted her.

"Sedusa," the other woman stated, glaring at her. Sedusa was her name in the circle. Such a name in reality would be so ridiculous. But the circle stressed not using their real names, despite them all knowing one another outside of this.

"Yes?" she repeated though, now at the woman's mercy.

"Where are you hurrying off too? Did we not discuss last time the possibilities of you making sacrifices to... HIM... to solve your problems." The woman's eyes were alight with passion, and Sedusa felt herself shiver in perverse excitement.

"I have thought about it, sister," she replied, calculating her words. "And I decided against it... We... We will continue on in the natural sense. I... I do not wish to meddle with such things.."

"Such things?" the other woman gasped, drawing herself up in shock. She basically spat venom into her next words. "You dare say such things of our master, He who blesses you and delivers unto you your powers which you view as necessary. You who attend these events and offer up chants to His power!"

"Sister," Sedusa interjected, giving a sharp jerk of her head. "Please desist. I do not wish to speak of this... My husband-"

"Your husband is a mere, stupid mortal!" the woman shrieked at her, cowl flopping down in her anger. Beneath it she had long, blonde hair, with startling blue eyes. Sedusa stared at her, shocked that she would say such things. Then anger broke within her.

"Listen here, _Femme_," she spat the nickname, "you will not speak of these matters any longer! If ever I go to HIM it will be under my own will. With my own thoughts. Not you hissing in my ear like the viper you are!" With that Sedusa raised her hands, slashing downwards and muttering one lone syllable.

Femme screamed, shooting backwards and slamming into a tree as some unknown force propelled her. Sedusa felt triumphant, grinning maniacally at her handiwork. "Now. Begone, before I milk your fangs for my potions!"

The blond woman let out a hideous shriek, but Sedusa quickly turned her back to her, and left the haven the woodlands offered. She soon located her car, which she'd parallel parked along the road near the woodland reserve they sneaked into.

She popped open the door, hearing the rusty hinges groan. She removed her cloak, and gave a soft sigh, dropping her head to her shoulder. As the cloak slithered into the dusty floorboard, she gave a sob of relief to just be plain old Sadie Utonium once more.

-(-o-)-

Blossom stared at the mirror. Her long, fiery locks cascaded down her curved back, spilling over her posterior and tickling the backs of her knees. Her breath was shaky as she observed her reflection, staring at her fingers in disgust. There was a wet, sticky redness there, and she was nonplussed about it.

She knew what was happening. At least, the vague concept of it anyways. Being as excelled as she was she'd often read books where these things occurred to women. Blossom also knew the science of it, and what it entailed.

But that didn't mean she knew quite what to do or handle such an occasion.

So she stared at the mirror, her naked body present before it, with her thighs bearing a pink tinge. It wasn't god awful, like she'd thought. In fact, she barely felt a thing. It also wasn't a gushing, bloody tide, like books would have you believe, but it was enough for her to consider what to do about it.

A shower, she thought groggily, and snatched up her pink bathrobe, tying it about her prone body, and stepping from her bedroom. Heading towards the bathroom, she paused. There was a low, wailing noise that was arising from somewhere, and it was slowly escalating into an all out, tumultuous screech of fear.

Blossom turned sharply, just to be slammed into by her sister, who hadn't even bothered to get her bathrobe. She was merely screaming, tears pouring down her face as sticky blood coated her fingers, and trickled down her thighs. Her sobs were causing her whole chest to heave, and she collapsed to the ground, blond hair spilling across the carpet.

The ginger-haired sister merely knelt next to her sibling, and clasped her hand tightly, muttering calming words. She repeated the girl's name over and over, "Bubbles, it's ok, shh, shhh", and the blond's sobs grew quieter. Despite her relaxation, though, the noise had drawn Blossom's father, and other sister, to their scene.

"What is happening?" Blossom's father shouted, distress showing on his face. The wrinkle lines were coming in strong, and he looked ashen and grey. Blossom could only guess that he had deemed it fit to stay up all night in his lab again. His wrinkled eyes immediately fell on the nude Bubbles, and he fell to his knees, demanding answers.

"She's just had her period," came a short-tempered voice, belonging to Blossom's other sister, Buttercup. Blossom turned to her, eyebrows rising closing to her hair line.

"You've had once before?" Blossom asked, trepidation showing. She'd never known Buttercup to have had one, or they could have shared tips. But even so, Buttercup was the same age as she and Bubbles... Could she really be so far advanced in her woman hood?

"Today," Buttercup grunted, crossing her arms. The black-haired girl quickly averted her eyes. "I remember girls at school talking about it. I stuffed toilet paper in my boxers... I was on my way to tell the Professor when..." She trailed off, and they all looked to their father. Even Bubbles fluttered eyelids open, staring at him.

The elderly man gave a huge gulp, and tugged at his collar. "Yes.. Well... Womanly essentials." He gave a nervous, tittering laugh, though he saw a storm building on Buttercup's face. "I...I think I'll call Ms. Keane! To help you girls!" He seemed nervous enough, but Blossom saw something else in his features... Fear?

But he quickly rose, and adjusted the tie he already sported beneath his lab coat. "Anyways, you girls had better follow Buttercup's lead. You all staring on the same day..." he continued muttering beneath his breath, and quickly dismissed himself, heading down the stairs.

Buttercup stared at her sisters, chin jutted out. "I'll go run a bath for you and Bubbles. You need to get that shit off of ya." That said, she disappeared into the bathroom, and Blossom her the sounds of the faucet squealing and the water gushing through the pipes.

"Come on, Bubbles," Blossom bade her, wrapping Bubble's arm around her shoulders, and hoisting her up. The red-head was sympathetic, but only so far. She felt that Bubbles was being dramatic, but she supposed the blond was less exposed to these happenings as Blossom and Buttercup were.

"I was so scared," Bubbles whispered, her voice a soft croak as she stood on trembling legs, staring at her bloodied thighs. "But it's not as awful, now that I've calmed down... Blossom... I know.." she gulped, "what periods are but... Not... Entirely..."

"I have books you can browse," Blossom responded automatically, cataloging a list in her brain, for those most informative, and those that Bubbles would actually make it through. Her sister was by no means stupid, but she did not hold the capacity for reading that Blossom displayed.

And indeed, at the mention of reading, Bubbles was wrinkling her nose up, shuffling her feet. "Oh, phooey," she sighed, but gave Blossom a tired smile. "At least this happened on summer break..."

Blossom returned the smile. "Of course... Freshman year wouldn't be nearly as enticing if we showed up to school like this one day..." She giggled, and Bubbles joined in, until they were interrupted by a stony-faced Buttercup.

"Might wanna hurry," she grumbled, grabbing her shorts and re-situating them. "I dunno how long toilet paper lasts."

-(-o-)-

Ms. Keane had been their kindergarten teacher, who had grown close with Professor Utonium, eventually remaining friends with him, and even babysitting the girls sometimes. She was a beautiful woman, short, with a round face, and round eyes. Her hips were wide, with a small chest, but she dressed accordingly, often with capris and vests that accentuated what she did have.

She stood with them at the convenience store now, educating the girls on periods and what they entailed. Buttercup and Blossom remained bored, and just wished to buy their items and exit, whilst an eager Bubbles asked questions repeatedly, demanding more details and asking Blossom and Buttercup to take notes for her.

Ms. Keane finally cut off their questions, though, and bought them each a pack, then headed towards the check out line.

"You know, girls," she tittered softly. "You're late bloomers. Fourteen!" she exclaimed, fanning her face. "I started at nine," the teacher confided. Bubbles gasped in astonishment, but Ms Keane only laughed it off. "Most girls start before high school."

"So we're weird?" Buttercup snapped, sounding touchy about the whole subject. Blossom could tell the idea of woman hood was not so pleasant to her rough-n-tumble sister. Buttercup was chewing at her lip, toes tapping impatiently inside of her raggedy black converse.

"Not weird," Ms. Keane corrected, paying for their items. Buttercup didn't look appeased, however. But Bubbles was beaming, asking more questions and demanding to hold the packages. Ms. Keane complied, laughing all the while, and they all piled back into the car.

Blossom sat in the front seat, her eyes staring out of the window. She felt... Odd. She felt like something was about to happen, something about to change forever. But what? Nothing she did put a name to the feeling, and she eventually let the thought fly away, dismissing it.

Instead, she focused on removing the paper from the sticky pad, and set down to her new occupation in life.

-(-o-)-

"Do you see, boys," a sinister voice hissed, curling around them, enveloping them. The voice sounded like hundreds crashing into one demonic roil. Each boy suppressed their shudder, however, and gripped their hands into fists.

"I don't see anything," one of them stated, his green eyes cutting sharply towards the ground. He had spiked black hair, and a pointed face, his attitude shining through quite easily. The voice hissed in anger, though, and a force slammed the defiant boy to the ground. His brother cried in shock, but he merely winced.

"They are maturing... Like little flowers... Now we just have to pick each... Little... Flower..." the voice trailed away, and then burst into maniacal laughter. "Their souls ar mine." The voice continued, and the upturned youth rose to his feet once more.

"What are we to do about them?" the second brother asked. This one had rough features, a scar slashing across his nose, and his long red hair was trapped in a pink ribbon, tumbling down his back in knots.

"I want their souls black," the voice replied, dropping into a hushed tone. "Woman hood is the first sin, marked by their blood... But it is not enough." The voice dripped acid, and the boys felt it rushing over them once more. "I need them to commit the Seven Deadly Sins."

"Womanhood isn't a deadly sin," the black haired teen remarked rudely, crossing his arms. He looked impressive for just a moment, before an apparition of a hand back handed him. The blow was so sharp, his feet left the ground, slamming into it once more.

"It is the sign of wickedness," the voice continued, words rushing together growing jumbled. "The blood shows how they have done wrong, just as Eve did, and just as every witch does after them. Their powers will begin crowning now, their blood spilling over just as their magic will." The voice then broke, shattering for just a moment. "Just remember all you owe me, boys. Your father's debt is still unpaid."

"We know," the red-head responded, his eyes blank as he stared at nothing. A dark, sultry chuckle oozed from all around them.

"Yes... Remember that you do..." then the voice was gone.

Each brother signed in relief, the weighted feeling always accompanied His presence floating from their shoulders, freeing them of their burdens. The red-head slumped the ground next to his black-haired brother. The third brother soon joined them, squatting together, his hands covering his eyes, hiding tears.

"Boomer," the red head said slowly, addressing the third brother. "No tears."

"How can you say that?" Boomer snapped, glaring angrily at his two siblings. "Brick, we're going to drag these girls into hell!"

Brick set his jaw, and slammed his fist into the ground. "I fucking know that! We were tricked the same way..." Brick's voice trailed off, and he stared at nothing in particular. "But we have to do this. Mojo... He was our father... He gave up everything just to have us..."

Boomer bit his lip, and choked on a sob. "This is horrible," he whispered, quivering with each word. "I don't want anyone else living through what we have... And you know he only keeps us here... on Earth... For this... To collect souls..."

"So what?" snapped the black-haired brother, raising up on his elbows as he rolled his eyes. "We trick these stupid bitches into doing whatever we need them to do. It'll be easy. The Seven Deadly Sins are so fucking easy to do, most people pull all of 'em in one day."

"You know it's more then that, Butch," Brick snarled, glaring at his brother. "It takes them on a large scale... And the Sins don't alway shave literal meanings and -"

"They change for each person, yada, yada," Butch interrupted, talking with his hands. "I don't care. We just need to get these stupid bitches! They're just lame-ass girls!" Butch rose onto his knees, grasping each Brick and Boomer's shoulders. "It'll be so easy!"

Boomer didn't look pleased, however, and turned his eyes downcast. "How can you say all this..."

"How can you not," Butch demanded, shaking his brother, albeit softly. "If we don't HIM will beat our asses, and eat our flesh for the rest of eternity!" Boomer gulped, and bit back a sob. He kept tugging at Brick's sleeve, as if begging his other brother to see sense, to stop this mess.

Brick, however, turned his gaze away. "We don't have a choice Boomer... We're going to drag these girls into hell..."

-(-o-)-

**So. This is a little dark, but there will be romance in it. I've never written PPGs before, so, we'll see how this go.**

**Please Review.**


	2. A Heated Encounter

**It was pointed out to me that I was too detailed in the prior chapter, and I do believe you were referencing the period aspect of the story, so I figured I'd preface this story with a warning. While the period scenes are done, there is still graphic material. There is a non-explicit scene of masturbation, and slight gore below.**

**If, however, it was for my writing style as a whole, I thank-you for the criticism, and will take this into consideration. Thank-you.**

Professor Utonium sat in his lab, fingers clutching at a frayed, ruined picture of his late wife. Her face had been rubbed away by his inquisitive fingers years ago, and there were white splotches drying over the photograph from the very deed he was performing right now.

He was frantic, questioning, and quite angry all together with the world. His darling, beautiful girls were growing up, and in this maturing time in their life he knew what was soon to be. His wife had warned him, when her belly lay large and swollen with triplet. He, of course, had expected it to come sooner, but was no better prepared.

"Damn you," he muttered, hand jerking haphazardly as he stared at the picture. "Damn you, Sadie." He was suddenly filled with a dull, aching anger, pulsing through him as his mind tossed it over more. Sadie should have been here, should have been handling this! She would have guided her daughters on to the Sisterhood, who would take them in refuge beneath those rustling cloaks that used to scare him so.

But no. He was left alone, with no way of contacting the Sisterhood. They rebuked men having access in their councils, and were often against women taking husbands, preferring homosexual relations, with a donor from an unknown clinic.

Sadie had been prepared for that life, yet she had met him in their college days. They'd both been shopping, bumped carts, and found out they shared classes together. A basic love story. Then Sadie had given herself to him wholly, and he'd promised he would love no other woman in her stead...

He had obeyed that wish, no matter how much pain it caused him, no matter how many times his pants restricted and he cried with frustration, taking his tension to this photograph. He sought relief from her, and only her now, no matter how many times Ms. Keane batted her eyes, or how much he thought she would make a glorious mother...

No.

The Professor dropped the picture, gasping sharply and lurching forward. He squinted his eyes in disgust, the wrinkles gouging out his features as he rose to wash his hands. Disgusting. Filthy. But yet it had helped clear his head, at least in the slightest.

Sucking air through his teeth, he thought back to the girls. Blossom was at her old middle school, helping Ms. Keane. Buttercup was out with a few friends, playing some sport or another-the Professor lost track with how many she bounced between... And Bubbles...

He didn't know where Bubbles was, but he assumed it was some place with flowers.

-(-o-)-

Boomer wasn't a creep. Sure, he was staring at a girl as he was perched precariously on a rock just out of sight. But, that didn't make someone a creep, did it? In his eyes it didn't. It was purely for research!

Though, the blond reflected, he counted himself lucky that this was the sister he was put on guard duty for. She seemed sweet, her soft face curving into a pale neck. Her body was average, but the way she carried it made her... Adorable. She always had a bounce in her step, her curly blond hair swirling in pigtails behind her.

It was much better then the brainiac and the brawn that she was related too. Snickering to himself, he pressed himself lower, the branches swaying in front of his gaze. He watched her loping gate, but she soon pulled to a stop.

Furrowing his brow, Boomer leaned ever closer.

-(-o-)-

Bubbles was enjoying the park, as per usual. The way the air caressed her legs was always a beautiful feeling. Summer after all was drawing to a close, autumn tailing behind it, creating the perfect mixture of the two seasons. She had on a blue sweater, with hearts printed across it, and shorts reaching her mid-thigh. She also had brown boots pulled up, with high white socks beneath them.

She felt proud of her ensemble, and giggled at the children who watched her, making faces and hand-animals at them. She simply loved this innocent atmosphere, and spun happily about, laughter still erupting from her soft lips.

But then her toe stubbed something. She ground to a halt, almost falling, before she noticed what had interrupted her glorious walk.

It was a dead bunny.

Bubbles sucked in a sob that had threatened to escape, and she slowly lowered herself to her knees. Her fingers were hovering like uncertain butterflies about her lips, mouth flapping like a fish. She cast a furtive glance around, hoping no children would see this horrendous sight.

"I have to move it!" she muttered, steeling her weak nerves. Whimpering, she slowly reached down, grasping the dead rabbit by its ears. She heard a disgusting wet noise, that sounded like the body tryping to separate in halves.

Gagging, she averted her eyes, fingers still curled helplessly around the ears. "This would be soooo much easier if you weren't dead!" She wailed, then reflected she wouldn't have to move it if it were dead. No sooner had this thought vanished, though, then she felt a tingling in her fingers, riding through her nerves to the tips, sparking there.

Looking down, Bubbles saw her hands were glowing a soft blue, wavering like a pond in the breeze. She was in awe and confusion, never bothering to ask herself why this was happening. She was entranced, staring. Then the blue expanded, spilling across and over the rabbit, enveloping it in its warm cocoon...

A choking noise came from the rabbit's throat. Bubble's attention immediately returned from her hands to the dead creature in her arms. She locked eyes with the creature, just to witness it blinking back at her.

Bubbles screamed, lurching away from the rabbit, and slinging it away from her. Her ass slammed into the concrete, and she felt the asphalt scraping her palm and thighs as she went down. Another sob rose in her throat as the rabbit turned to her, its jaw unhinged, and its entrails oozing from its body.

She saw maggots worming within its pelt as the creature drew itself forward, a trail of blood and slime smearing behind it. Bubbles felt herself hyperventilating, choking as tears worked their way hot and fast down her cheeks. She was scooting backwards, her flesh ripping raw as she worked to get away from the thing.

She saw its back legs bunch together. It wasn't going to jump.

Her eyes were rolling back, ready to give way, when a shadow blocked out the sun.

A figure was leaping over her, screaming obscenities. Then a swath of blue cloth was blocking her eyes sight of the monstrosity, and she heard wet squelching noises from the other-side of the figure. She bit her lip, so hard blood pooled up in her mouth.

Suddenly the figure turned, however, and Bubbles was greeted by a boy. His face was soft and round, still boyish, with big blue eyes. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern, his blond bangs falling softly across his forehead.

"You ok?" the boy asked, a bloodied, gory rock clasped in his hands.

"Y-Yeah..." Bubbles muttered, staring at the boy some more. She averted her eyes, however, and dug in her pocket, dragging out a napkin. She held it out to him. "You uh... You have blood..." Her voice trailed off, and the boy grinned at her.

"Thanks," he chuckled, taking the napkin, wiping at his face. "Hey... You know what!" He shouted happily, snagging Bubbles' hand and dragging her to her feet. She yelped in surprise as he grabbed her by her waist, picking her up and swinging her around. "It's like I'm you knight! And you offered me your kerchief!"

"It was a napkin from McDonlads-" Bubbles protested weakly, seeing the gory mess beneath her and the other boy's shoes.

"A kerchief! A kerchief!" he insisted, laughing. He did stop spinning her, much to Bubbles relief. Though he wasn't done. He didn't set her on the ground, merely clutched at her tighter, pressing their bodies together. "So wanna have sex with me?"

Bubbles had never slapped somebody so hard.

-(-o-)-

Blossom had her hair yanked up into a neat ponytail, bow finishing it off nicely. Her goggles were snapped eagerly in place over her sharp, green eyes, and her lab-coat was buttoned professionally beneath all this. She looked the spitting image of the scientist she was.

That is, except for the fact that her Bunsen burner just plain refused to turn on. She'd done everything. Reconnecting the gas, swiveling the nozzle, and many other techniques she'd learned, yet none were pulling through.

Normally, she'd ask Ms. Keane, but the teacher had run off to the vending machine, trusting Blossom wholeheartedly on her own. The red-head was struggling for once in her life, though, gnawing at her lip as she glared angrily at the malfunctioning equipment.

The vial she was holding needed to be heated for the experiment to continue. Ms. Keane had called her in specifically for this, to see how best to pull off the lab, so that way her incoming students could enjoy it to the fullest extent.

The plan, obviously, was failing.

Growing frustrated, Blossom let out an angered snarl, before curling the vial even tighter in her fist. She knew the dangers of this, yet couldn't seem to compose herself. Luckily enough, she didn't bust the vial. Instead, she felt heat growing in her palms.

Blossom froze, turning her gaze to the her hands. She bit back a yelp of surprise, as a rosy glow erupted around her hands, glowing and wavering as the vial was soon surrounded by it as well. She couldn't believe what was happening, and couldn't assign a logical reason to why this was happening.

The liquids within the vial were heating up. Blossom could tell as tiny bubbles began to form, foam quickly gathering about the tip, ready to broth over. She watched, concentrating on the solution, changing the intensity of the heat with just her mind. Blossom bit back a laugh, excitement boiling inside of her at his mystery, much like the heating liquid.

"Wow, I wonder how you're doing that?" A deep, masculine voice commented from the door frame. Blossom yelped, and her grip loosened. For a fraction of a second, her eyes snapped wide, and she dashed forward, frantically scrabbling at the glass. It slipped through her fingers on the final spasm though, and she stared, defeated, as it crashed against the tile floor, the splash staining her sensible, orthopedic shoes.

Frustrated, she snapped her gaze up to the newcomer. "Excuse you," Blossom snarled, jerking off the lab-coat. Underneath she wore a white, button up shirt, tucked neatly into a red pencil skirt. "You've ruined my experiment, and anyhow, no one is supposed to be here! School is not in session!" She slapped her labcoat down in one of the vacant desks, and placed her hands on her hips.

The boy merely smirked. "Do I look like a prankster? I just saw what you were doing it... It was interesting. I mean... Heating something without a Bunsen burner? How'd you do it?" He took a step forward, and Blossom took one back. She was wary of this stranger.

"You look like you don't need to be here," was Blossom's reply, "and it's none of your business what I was doing, or the method behind it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find my teacher." She attempted to step forward, but he flung out an arm, yawning widely.

Grinding to a halt, Blossom begrudgingly lifted her face, staring at him. He was short for a boy, but still taller then she. His hair was fiery red, tussled and messy. The only method of taming it was the baseball cap slapped on over top it, the ponytail pulled through the back clip. His torso was wrapped in a sensible red sweater.

"Let me through." Blossom demanded, resisting the urge to stamp her foot like a child.

"It wouldn't do you any good," the opposing ginger smirked, eyeing her down his nose. "That short, chunky woman, right? That's your teacher?" Blossom didn't offer him a nod, but he seemed to know the answer without her assistance. "She went hurrying off, muttering something about a girl named Buttercup."

"Buttercup?" Blossom repeated, alarm skittering across her face. "Oh, no..." She re-sized her opponent, sending him an irritated glare. "What do you want? I need to get to that girl."

He paused at this, before shaking his head. "Someone else is already on the case. What can you do?"

"A hell of a lot more then they can," Blossom snapped. She attempted to look menacing, but then stopped, realizing she probably looked ridiculous with goggles snapped tight around her face. She quickly jerked them off, tossing them to the nearest lab table.

The boy hadn't moved, though, and was studying her. "My name's Brick," he said, unbidden. Blossom didn't even bother reciprocating his speech. "And it looks to me like you have a great deal of Pride..." His lips curled up at the tips, and he seemed to be resisting the urge to laugh.

"It's none of your business," Blossom retorted, tossing her ponytail back. Brick just stood there, still protesting his smile. Irritated, Blossom drew back her palm. His eyes followed her hand, curiously. Blossom felt satisfaction, though, that he had no idea what she was planning.

While Brick was busy staring at that hand, Blossom held the other behind her, remembering what she did earlier. She gathered up heat in her clenched fingers, while distracting her opponent with her other shifting appendage.

"Look, Brick," Blossom fluttered, giving a soft smile. "This is nothing personal, but I really have to get to my sister." Then she struck. The hand that Brick hadn't been watching slammed against his face. Blossom watched in horror as he slammed into the ground with a screech, his face bubbling from her touch.

She sucked in her breath however, leaping over his prone body and hurtling down the hall. Horrendous guilt came crashing down over her conscious, and she frantically tried to rationalize it to herself. He would have attacked me! she thought over and over, He could have raped or murdered me!

While none of these had been entirely true, they eased her burning guilt just the slightest, and allowed her to go hurtling towards the baseball field, where she knew her sister had taken occupancy. After all, the two had walked their together, parting their separate ways.

Blossom only hoped her sister was still there, and she could end whatever was happening up ahead. She crashed through the hall doors into the outside, hideous shoes slapping against the green grass. She ground to a halt right outside the baseball field, the large wire fences rising high above her, like a thorny guardian, keeping her from her sister.

Shaking those thoughts free, Blossom heard screams and shouts from within, and quickly shuttled inside. She halted at the entrance, and took in all the information she needed. To manes of black hair were blurring together, green fabric meshing into one just to come out in a bloodied, torn mess.

"Buttercup, no," Blossom groaned, recognizing that her sister was currently locked in the grasp of a man, trading blow for blow.

-(-o-)-

Brick rose to his knees, panting harshly as he placed his fingers softly on the bubbling flesh. He could feel it pulsing and roiling, and he bit back a moan. Down the hall, he saw Blossom shooting around a corner, her legs churning as fast as they could in that stupid ass skirt.

"Bitch," Brick muttered halfheartedly, but found he couldn't blame her entirely. He'd cornered her, and like an animal, she'd attacked. Especially with her new-found defense mechanism, it was dangerous for him to do so again. He'd have to meet her in open, public spaces.

Though, Brick smirked, she'd probably be the easiest of them all. She already had a plethora of pride, and he could sense himself shoving her over the edge into Wrath. Gluttony-well, one could be a glutton for punishment, or for achievements. Avarice for knowledge. Envy of other peoples' success.

Sloth and Lust seemed to pause the only challenges ahead of him.

Chuckling, he thought to himself, "How funny, she's just like me..." Then his thoughts trailed off as he pulsed energy into his fingertips, then coasted them slowly over his features, easing them back into their natural state. There would be a red rash there for a few weeks, and maybe a boil or two, but aside from that he figured it would heal just fine.

Or, a normal burn would.

But as Brick rose and paced to the bathroom mirror, he realized that Blossom had probably struck him harder then she'd meant. His face was still a disgusting, raw, red. The skin was still pulsing, and it appeared that all his magic had done was act as a pain killer.

He stared in awe, gripping the sink and pondering over this. "You little minx," he sighed, shaking his head. He'd definitely make sure not to corner her again. To get this fixed, he'd probably have to seek a real witch's help. In such womanly craft, he simply didn't hold the right power to fix such a mess.

It would cost him a pretty penny, sure. But Brick found solace in the thought that it was going to cost Blossom her pretty little life.


	3. Buttercup's Beating

**A warning for extremely vulgar language from the Greens**

**Also a violent Buttercup**

"Holy shit," Boomer cried, catching sight of Brick's features. His brother was covered in an angry red welt, that the blond was currently staring at. Brick gave his brother a warning glare, stuffing his hands deep within his pockets. Boomer, however, was never one to take a hint, and immediately darted forward.

Pale fingers slid across the burn, and Brick felt his anger surge up. He channeled power into his fists, and backhanded his brother, knocking the blond to the dust. Boomer let out a plaintive groan, and rubbed at his cheek.

"The hell, man?" Boomer groaned, eyebrows drawing together.

"That hurt," Brick snapped back, hissing angrily at he felt the skin throbbing. His brother touching him had thoroughly pissed him off. "How the fuck did your mission go?" he demanded, focusing on the goal once more.

"Shitty," Boomer returned, rubbing angrily at his face. Brick's face turned dark as he glowered at his brother. The blond hastily held up his hands, ready to defend himself to the best of his abilities. "Look, look!" he spat hastily. "She hit me! I was sweet and nice when I asked her to have sex! But she hit me! Who does that?"

Brick stared at his brother. Merely stared. There was no way his brother could be this idiotic... Could he? But apparently it was possible, for his brother was just sitting there, still rambling about how unreasonable Bubbles was, and how this was rude as hell.

Groaning, Brick planted his face in the palm of his hands, wearily shaking his head. "Where's Butch?" he muttered, voice muffled from the contact with his flesh. Boomer stopped mid-tirade, and cocked his head to the side.

"Don't rightfully know," he replied, huffing at Brick's distracted state. His brother's attention should have been fully focused on Boomer's enthralling tale of his defeat. Regardless, Boomer humoured him. "He said something about going to a sports field."

"He better not be shirking," Brick snarled, cricking his neck as he glared at nothing in particular. Boomer retracted slightly, before hopping to his feet. With his rant out of the way, he felt a little more focused.

"Why haven't you healed yourself?" Boomer questioned, blue eyes squinting as if he could find the answers hidden in Brick's frown lines.

"Because," the red-head responded gruffly, "they're real witches. They... They can hurt us beyond what we can heal." Boomer heard the anger lying beneath his brother's words. This made Brick absolutely furious, and the ginger was trying everything to not admit defeat to a bunch of middle school girls.

"Well," Boomer chuckled, splaying his hands in what he assumed would be a soothing way, "I guess I feel bad for their husbands!"

"They won't live long enough to see their husbands," Brick spat out, his hands glowing with fire, the only thing betraying how furious he truly was.

Boomer, for once in his life, did the smart thing, and stayed quiet.

-(-o-)-

Buttercup wiped sweat off of her brow, and smacked the baseball bat against the plate. She could feel saliva gathering in her cheeks, and quickly swilled it before spewing it into the dirt. A few girls out on the field grimaced, while one her of her friends, Mitch, gave a snort of laughter.

"Hey!" Buttercup shouted, swinging the tip of her bat around til it faced Mitch. "Shut up before I knock this ball into you damned face!" Mitch flipped her off, but luckily enough Coach Roach wasn't paying attention. He was too busy tugging at his too-small tank-top, and digging into a candy bar.

The pitcher reeled back, and Buttercup prepped herself. As soon as the ball came flying towards her, she gave a whoop of joy and smacked the ball with her bat, watching the it go soaring through the sky. Screaming with joy, Buttercup launched into her lap around the diamond, the echoes of groans from her team mates rising around her like a sweet symphony.

"Buttercup," one of the girls snapped, and Buttercup slammed her heel onto home plate before turning to regard her op poser. "You do this every time! You knock it so far out of the park that somebody has to go chase it down!"

"So?" Buttercup sneered, arching her eyebrows. "It's useful during matches, isn't it? I've never heard you complain prior to this." She could tell she'd hit a nerve. This stupid girl, Princess, was just a frizzy headed, angry bitch that Buttercup would gladly take care of. After all, one good punch and the pasty ginger would be sprawled out cold.

"Hey," Mitch jogged up, standing comfortingly next to Buttercup. "Princess. If you don't want her here, then let's just not put Buttercup as batter, ok? At least not until the game." He was so calm that Buttercup wanted to hit him. He sounded like a damn dog, rolling over to his back as if he were at fault.

God.

Princess was mulling it over, though, her jaw working as she plucked at her navy blue shorts. Finally, though, the girl seemed to reach a decision. "Fine," she ground out, and Buttercup felt a sudden urge to hit her again. "I'll take bat."

She stepped past Buttercup, a sneer riding her features all the way. Snarling, Buttercup raised her fists, stamping her foot down. She went to surge forward, but Mitch's hand quickly grasped her arm, giving a calm shake of his head.

"Let it be."

"Pussy," Buttercup snapped, jerking her arm away from him. "You're a god damn hippie." Mitch rolled his eyes at her dramatics, and quickly left her there to fume. Which she gladly did. She didn't even want to be on this damned team!

Buttercup angirly kicked at the dirt, hoping some of it got in some one's eyes. Her gaze drifted along the length of the field, just to see Princess holding the bat oddly between her fingers. The red-head looked disgusted to be holding it, and kept pulling faces every time it made contact with her palm.

"Oh, fuck you," Buttercup snarled. One of the girls near her just shook her head, and gave Buttercup a light smile.

"Princess is ridiculous, isn't she?" the girl was just trying to be friendly. Amicable. But it pissed Buttercup off and she pointedly headed in the opposite direction. Finally, out on a lonely corner of the field, Buttercup felt at peace. The sky was high over head, Princess was still dicking off at the end of the field, and no one was talking to her...

"Buttercup, watch ou-"

She heard Mitch's warning too late. A ball crashed into her cheek bone, and she felt agonizing pain. Buttercup had a weird moment where her feet left the ground, and her body just hovered there, in a stasis of pain. Then it was over, and she hit the ground, hard. Dirt clambered into her mouth, turning into mud as it mixed with her saliva, clogging up her mouth.

A few worried murmurs were heard above her, but she only heard one voice. It was a soft, girlish tittering, and she recognized it instantly. "My bad," Princess purred, and Buttercup heard the bat hit the ground, just as she herself had done. "I didn't think I hit it that hard! And in your direction..." The snotty girl tsked. "But I guess you should have been paying attention, huh?"

That was it. Mitch was telling Princess to run, but Buttercup was already on her feet. Everything was agonizing, and she felt pain reeling in her body. The hurt was nothing. She spat mud out of her mouth, and locked eyes with Princess.

For once the little bitch looked scared.

Good.

Buttercup reeled back, and she jerked forward, her fist connecting solidly with flesh. She felt an immediate sense of gratification, watching her knuckles twist into Princess' stupid, white flesh, blood welling up where Buttercup's fist had rubbed a circle in.

The opposing girl didn't stand a chance, and she bit the earth just as Buttercup had done. Not quite satisfied yet, Buttercup launched herself on top of Princess, her fist connecting again and again with any open part of the girl, her anger blacking out her cognitive thought. No repercussion was threatening enough to end this glorious moment!

And Mitch ended. The boy had grasped her beneath her armpits, and dragged her pointedly off of the crying, sobbing Princess. Buttercup wasn't done yet, however, and writhed in Mitch's grasp, snarling and threatening him with various obscenities. He ignored her, making her angrier by the moment.

"What the fuck?!" Buttercup finally snapped, drawing herself out of his gasp. Mitch was sweating and panting himself with the difficulty of the task he'd just performed. Buttercup may have been one girl, but she was a hell of a strong one.

"You needed to stop," Mitch fired back, hands on his knees as he wheezed. Buttercup recovered faster, however, and that was a bad thing.

"You don't know what I need! This bitch had it coming!"

"Over an accident? Calm the fuck down!" Mitch cried, shaking his head, feeling exasperated with his friend. She was still livid, though, and Mitch knew all he'd done was add fire the fuel. Her fists were clenching spasmodically, and it was only a matter of time before she hit either him or Princess.

"No, let her fight," a strange voice said amongst all the spectators. They'd all been too frightened to talk. No one wanted to encourage the black haired brawn, but no one wanted to face the consequences of challenging her either. Now, they all immediately retracted, allowing the free speaker to break free from the heard.

Buttercup's attention was drawn to the new comer. He was a boy, about her age, with dark green eyes, and spiky black hair. His features were elfish-a pointed nose, with thin eyebrows, these features leading down to a thin mouth twisted upwards into a smirk. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his blue jean, and his green shirt advertised some band Buttercup was unfamiliar with.

"Now, Dick Van Dyke," he muttered, giving her a faux-worried look, "what happened to all that fire? Did you flush it down your girlfriend's cunt?" His features twisted into a horrendous grin, and Buttercup felt her anger double up again.

The boy looked cocky for two seconds, before Buttercup's fist was in his gut. He rose off the ground, and he spat blood onto her forearm. Part of him looked in awe, while the other seemed to be rippling with blood thirst and anger.

"Bitch," he groaned, as Buttercup retracted her hand from his stomach. The boy crumbled to the ground. Smacking her hands together, Buttercup mocked wiping her brow once more.

"Guess I worked up a sweat-"

A foot lashed out, crashing into the back of her knee, sending her reeling to the ground a second time. This time there was a person beneath her, though, and she took full advantage of this. The cocky boy was sitting there, smirking as he watched her go down.

His face quickly changed as Buttercup smashed her head down, leading her body behind the attack. Her forehead connected with his mouth, busting his lip and splattering blood all over the opposing girl. She felt her elbows smash into the ground beside his body, and she kept herself propped with this.

Despite the pain he must've been in, the boy hiked his knee up into Buttercup's chest. Her newly formed breasts were tortured, the sensitive nipples getting ground beneath the bone. Tears unwillingly rose in her eyes, burning her as she searched for some new way to hit him.

The boy, however, was wooing in joy. "No bra! Are you fucking stupid!" His question never got answer, for Buttercup instead responded with a quick knee-jab into the nads. Her opponent groaned, and she bit down on his arm, causing him to yelp in surprise.

"No cup?!" she snarled, teeth embedded in flesh. "Are you fucking stupid?" The boy merely flung out a leg, flipping Buttercup to where she was underneath him, and prepared his fists. He slammed them into her chest again, causing her to scream beneath him.

"Fuck you, you fucking cum-guzzling bitch!" She screamed, hands latching around his neck. The boy choked and gurgled as he fingers flexed around the flesh. Both rolled once more, Buttercup straddling him as he hammered blows into her stomach. She clenched her eyes, though, denying the pain.

They were rolling continuously now, each seeking a vantage point, not daring to leave close vicinity. It was headbutts, bites, scratching, punches, elbows, and knees. There was no breaking apart, and they were oblivious to the spectators screaming and running, stranding Princess in their urge to get away.

Buttercup dimly heard Mitch screaming for Ms. Keane, but she ignored him, caught up in the fight now. It wasn't like the girl was new to fights, but she had to admit, this kid...

He wasn't half bad.

She was even starting to enjoy herself, slamming her fist pointedly into his-probably-already broken rib. He grunted, and punched Buttercup in her bruised eyes, before jerking upwards, bopping his head into her chin, causing her to bite her tongue.

Hissing, she spit blood on him, and she could see by his eyes that he was loving it too. This adrenaline rush. This trading of blows. What had started off in anger was now coursing through her like a drug rush.

She even laughed.

That was when a screaming, crying, hysterical Blossom grabbed her, and Buttercup felt herself getting pulled off the boy. He seemed disoriented, looking around, just noticing that there was a teacher there, with her cell phone pressed against her ear, and a crying girl clutching at Buttercup.

"Blossom," Buttercup kept snapping, watching her sisters demanding answers to questions, and jabbering off to Ms. Keane. All the students were gone, fled, except for Princess and Mitch. The latter was crouched next to the former, making sure she was still awake, and able to stand.

"What the hell happened here?" Ms. Keane suddenly demanded, her face ridiculously close to Buttercup's. The black-haired girl merely snarled at Ms. Keane, who reeled back in surprise. She had practically raised Buttercup, and to receive this treatment...

"Nothing fucking happened," Buttercup snapped, her eyes drawn to the boy she'd been fighting with. "We were playing."

Both Blossom and Ms. Keane stared, jaws dropped wide as they processed that ridiculous statement compared to the state that Buttercup was currently in. Blossom wasted no time silent, though, and immediately prepared herself for a lecture. Buttercup recognized it by the way her sister sucked in her breath, chest rising as her back straightened. And that damn pointer finger was dangerously high.

"Blossom," Ms. Keane interrupted her, and the red-head shrunk back, startled. "Not right now. Buttercup... This... This isn't playing! A man just assaulted you! He could be tried for this! We don't live in a world where men can brutalize women-"

"She counts as a woman?" the boy quipped, his knees up with his elbow resting easily on them. He didn't seem worried at all about the thought of prosecution. "Damn! I thought you just shot yourself full of Estrogen." He mimed holding a pair of tits.

Buttercup couldn't even get enraged about it, and merely rolled her eyes, while Ms. Keane turned on the boy, in a towering temper.

"Keane," Buttercup interjected, causing the short woman to quickly whirl around. "Leave it. He's just a dumbass. Hell," she shook out her limbs, slowly rising to her feet, bouncing on her toes and shooting a few punches and hooks at the air. "I feel much more zen."

Ms. Keane, however, did not look appeased, as was glaring daggers at Buttercup's fighting partner. The boy waved happily, and rose to his own feet. Blossom, left alone kneeling on the dirt, quickly stood as well, staring between the two of them.

"Buttercup!"

"Drop it," the mentioned female replied, snapping her teeth together. "Let's go home. I need to take a bath."

"Don't get your dick caught in the drain," the boy offered helpfully, a smirk rising on his features. Buttercup sneered at him, before gripping her overly large shorts, shifting the crotch. Blossom looked horrified enough for everyone in attendance, and hid behind her hands, incredulous.

"I wish, but it just gets sucked down so easily."

The boy looked startled by the comeback, but slightly pleased. Mitch stood in the background, watching Buttercup and the boy apprehensively. His features were drawn and worried, but Buttercup only glanced at him once.

She gathered up Ms. Keane and Blossom, giving them both soft pushes on their backs, and sent them scuttling towards the school. Buttercup's sister continued to cast glances back at her, and Buttercup could see that, where now there was worry and sympathy, it was soon to melt into anger. Ms. Keane merely looked confused, and unwilling to go, but Buttercup would stare at her every time the woman turned back around.

"Go to the car," the black haired girl demanded, staring at them. "I'll meet you there." She then locked eyes with Mitch. "Is CuntFace okay?" The brunette rolled his eyes, and stood up, Princess balanced blearily on his shoulders.

"Yes, you damn Amazon." Mitch took a few steps towards the complimented Buttercup, but she waved him off.

"I'm heading home. She's your problem." Buttercup smirked, and Mitch glared angrily at her from around the frizz of Princess' hair blocking his vision. A bird was promptly flicked her way, and she laughed in his face.

The boy she'd sparred with merely stood there, saying nothing, until Buttercup and Mitch parted ways. Buttercup stomped through the dirt, ready to head towards the car, when suddenly fingers were wound around her wrist.

"Hey," his voice had changed, dark and menacing, but Buttercup couldn't take him seriously. It seemed like he was trying to be her conspirator on some difficult, evil plan. She humored him, though, and turned, staring at his dark green eyes. "Did you feel any Rage?"

"Fucking weirdo," Buttercup snapped, her lips curling up. It had been a stupider question then she'd thought. "No, I didn't feel any rage." Her gaze was condescending, and he looked rather put out by her answer. Instead of releasing her, though, he returned back to his usual smirk.

"The name's Butch, anyways. And if you want some help," he leaned forward, and she punched him in the face, causing him to retreat, albeit a little more bruised. "Ugh. Fucking twat-waffle... Anyways, I was going to fucking suggest you go home, and press your hands to your face."

"What?" Buttercup snapped, her fists gathering once more. Butch waved her off, though, and rolled his eyes.

"Just do it. And just think about how much it hurts. And how much you don't want it too." Buttercup through more obscenities his way for this statement, which he pointedly ignored. She finally drew away, however, at which he took his chance, kicking her straight in her ass.

-(-o-)-

Buttercup sat in the shower, the water drilling against her bare skin. Her many bruises that completely covered her skin were now burning and aching, hurting her all over. She didn't have anything broken-so she'd gotten relatively lucky.

She would have already exited the shower if not for the fact that she didn't want to deal with The Wrath of Blossom right now. The Professor had already tried to corner her, but she'd quickly released herself from his hold, demanding she have a shower. He'd been reluctant to let her go from punishment, but he'd eventually agreed when she'd stripped off her shoes, allowing her sweaty socks smell up the room.

Now she stood there, bruised body being pummeled even more. She thought back to what Butch had said to her post-fight. _Press your hands to your face._ Ugh how stupid. Whatever. She didn't need that stupid fucking idiot's help.

Nonetheless...

Buttercup slowly raised her hands, smooshing them against her face. She clenched her eyes tight, brain kicking into overdrive as she commanded only thoughts of her recovery, of her unblemished face peering into the mirror, and her bruise-free body slipping nicely into a comforter, ready to sleep.

Sighing, she removed her hands from her face, wondering why she'd listen to stupid Butch! What the fuck did he know about this shit? It was just one last fucking prank since she'd lain the whoop ass on him.

Snorting happily, she finally felt the water turn cold. Cursing, she quickly smacked the nozzles to close, and exited the shower. Pausing, she swiped some of the fog from the mirror, and stared at her reflection, noticing something important.

Where her hands and touched, she saw smooth, sweet skin, with not a cut present.

"Holy. Fuck."

-(-o-)-

Blossom felt her anger broiling over as she ruffled the pages of her book ever so slightly. Gasping in shock, she quickly tried to flatten the pages, mumbling incoherently to herself. So many things were frothing and boiling in her mind, and reading as usually the answer. This time, however, she was lacking that calming effect, and closed her book hastily before she hurt another page.

Her mind was flicking from Brick, to Buttercup, all the way to her strange... She didn't know what it was. Mutation? Sucking in her breath, Blossom rose from the couch she'd been roosting on. She couldn't just sit there. She couldn't do this. This was too much. She needed to get out, needed fresh air needed... Needed... Needed something!

Her breath was coming out hot and fast, but she was trying to suppress it. Trying to deny it, as she sucked in oxygen. She finally calmed herself, and hugged herself, hands clasping familiarly at her elbows.

Then she looked down, and realized her feet were no longer touching the floor.

Blossom's scream came out as a whisper, and she frantically looked around her, searching for something she could grab and maybe-propell herself to the ground? She didn't know. She just... She just wanted to be down there! The thought crossed her mind, and she felt a tingling in her body, before she plummeted.

A moment's warning was all she had before her socked feet slammed into the carpet, her knees buckling beneath her weight. Groaning, she slumped the the floor, the fibers of the carpet comforting her as she sat there.

_At least my breathing is normal_, was all she could think, and she stared at the day was full of surprises. Her eyes flickered shut for just a moment, before she pushed herself up to all fours._ I have to learn to control this... Whatever this is..._

Her hands were shaking as she stared at them, wondering what other secrets her body held. It almost felt unfamiliar. Like a vessel she'd boarded on accident, hurtling her further towards a different destination. This wasn't her body.. It couldn't be...

_It doesn't matter._ She gritted her teeth, before furrowing her brow.

_Brick._

He knew something! He had to! He'd known what she was doing with that Bunsen Burner, and she could tell now, on reflection, that he'd given every clue that he had knowledge prior to this particular occurrence.

Blossom felt determination surging through her, and gripped her small hands into fists, biting her lip eagerly. Powers. That's what these were. That's what he'd seen and stared at, almost as if observing her for more. She could seek him out, ask him for information-

_Except you burned his face off._

That was the sticky part. Blossom frowned once more, her newly attained vigor quickly dissipating at the thought. So she couldn't go to Brick. Actually, the more the red-head thought about it, she'd have to avoid him. No one who'd gotten their face seared off would want to be on the training committee for said girl.

"Fiddle sticks..." she muttered, before flexing her fingers. Maybe she could just practice now...

The front door slammed open, and Blossom found herself whirling around guiltily. Her face was plastered with shame, like Buttercup the night they'd caught her with a porn magazine. Eyes wide, Blossom realized it was Bubbles, who was looking rather distraught.

"A man asked me to have sex with him!" The blond screamed, and as Blossom stared, mouth agape, Professor Utonium came hurtling into the room, a few test tubes still locked firmly in his grasp.

"What was that?"

-(-o-)-

"I really thought she was full of Rage!" a furious Butch snarled, launching a kick into the punching bag. Boomer looked equally disappointed, and was sprawled out on their black couch. The blond was rather put out, his blue eyes half-lidded, with light eyelashes brushing his cheeks.

"Yeah, well you fucking failed," Brick snapped. The red-head had located himself on top of a dusty pile of books. He was glaring from brother to brother, disappointment etched in every line on his face.

"At least I didn't let a bitch barbecue my face," Butch retorted, but silenced when Brick cast his murderous gaze on him. "Anyways, this sucks ass! How the fuck am I supposed to know what Sins we've filled?"

Boomer bit his lip, and gave a hasty nod. "Yeah... Who knew blondie would smack me? And then just walk away like I didn't offer?!" The blond was truly distraught by this, and Brick gave him a withering stare.

"Most girls would not just say 'yes' and jump in your arms," Brick replied, though Boomer still looked lost.

"Well why the hell not?" Boomer slammed his fist into the couch. "This would've been easy if I'd just known what she was feeling!"

"Well, duh," Butch snapped, throwing a few more punches into the bag as he felt anger surging in him once more. What the hell kind of girl didn't get mad after all the things he'd said to her?! The fuck?!

"Yes, boys, it would be easier," a dark chuckle was heard, and the unfathomable Brick shuddered slightly, feeling a tongue slither along his cheek. Boomer and Butch also drew to attention, staring blankly at nothing. There was no new, physical being added to the room, but He was there.

They swallowed their complaints and bitter accompaniments, and allowed the dark, ruthless voice of Him to wash over them in waves.

"So I brought my boys presents!" the voice hitched off into a girl spiral, a giggle almost falling with it. All three boys shuttered slightly, each gripping their fists onto their jeans. As different as the three were, they were all upon agreeance on the topic of Him.

But, true to the devil's words, there was a box there. Just sitting on the table. Boomer moved first, reaching hesitantly towards it. The pressure in the air was still heavy, and he knew that Him was still hovering there. Somewhere, beyond their touch.

The box was simple enough, with red wrapping paper, and a black bow snaked around it. Boomer quickly latched his fingers around the bow, and slowly released its grip on the box. Butch and Brick were leaning forward, eyes trained on their blond brother as he popped open the box.

Inside were three necklaces, all of them silver, with a vial held on it. Boomer lifted one up, staring at it. Wrapped around the vial were seven snakes, each holding an orb in their mouths. The blond averted his gaze to his brothers, who had each reached into the box, grasping their respective chains.

"These are my own creation," the Devil hissed, "properly prepared to lead our little Eves into temptation..." He chuckled, voice ranging out and banging against the walls in a cacophony of fear. The boys each winced, staring at the ground.

"What do they do?" Brick asked, voice not quavering as he lifted the necklace once more. Boomer was grateful for that, knowing his own voice would have most likely have failed. Sighing, he stared at the floor.

"Each orb has a different color," the devil responded, his presence snaking its way through the room. "One to match each Sin. Pride is violet, Envy is green, Rage is red, Sloth is light blue, Greed yellow, Gluttony is orange, and Lust is the dark blue. If the girls are responding to one of the Sins, then it will be burn hot. You then have a limited time to collect on that Sin, where it will be deposited into the vial. When your vial is black..." the Devil smirked " they have been corrupted."

"How do we collect?" Butch muttered, staring at each little stone set in the snakes' mouths, and the empty vial in front of him.

"By speaking, _deo optimo maximo_." They could practically feel the Devil's smirk pressing against them.

"Well, by Jove I think you've got it," Brick stated, then gave an awkward burst of laughter. His brother stared at him, rather confused, while Him indulged him with a soft trickle of laughter. Brick regretted making that thing laugh, however, and felt the chills run up his spine.

"Yes, dear, yes," the devil drawled. "Now. Put them on. The girls' powers are coming in, and the last thing I need is you three going up against three fully grown witches!" His voice dropped off into a snarl. "As much as I'd love to say I can, there's not enough potion ingredients out there to match you all to the females in this... Work field."

Brick swallowed, hard, and he shared glances with his brothers, before they all lifted the chains, and looped them around their necks. And, despite all their years prior working with the devil, with this heavy metal weighing down his collar bone, Brick felt like he'd just truly signed his fate in hell.


	4. Library Meet Up

Buttercup had been banned from the sports team, and had been sentenced to her room until the start of school. Bubbles had also been confined, but merely to the house, though through no fault of her own. After her confession of a boy demanding sex of her, Professor Utonium had come to the conclusion that he wasn't comfortable with her leaving the house.

Blossom was the only one allowed free reign and she utilized it fully. The ginger had taken to excusing herself from the house, and heading to the library. It was so large that she could easily duck behind book shelves, using her new found powers, and experimenting with what all she could.

Between levitation, small fires, and repairing paper she was growing. She'd even tried controlling people, but that left a bad taste in her mouth. The way their body's hitched and twisted tore her stomach with guilt, and she'd quickly release them.

She got more practice though, by the fact that outside of the library, there was a small, cobblestone area, that had a large fountain on display. There were steps ascending to a small little park, where waterfalls and spouts shot down into the fountain, creating a gorgeous view for all the readers who wanted a peaceful, lounging spot.

Blossom found this especially useful, considering she could practice with water. She would make it shoot and spray, or wave her hands and bring it curling in about her palm. She'd form shapes of it, watching it flicker and waver in the sun. It was so calming for her...

On the last week of school she visited the fountain once more. This would probably be her last time returning here, and she wanted to test her limits. She was lacking in ideas, but she was prepared for anything. Her arms were loaded with her mandatory summer reading, and she quickly stuffed them under a bench.

Sucking in a gust of air, she felt her ribs flex and her feet planted themselves firmly in the grass. She felt the same, usual tingling within her palms, and the sensation of power coursing through her veins. A small smile lit her face, and she bit back a giggle.

"You sure come here a lot."

Blossom lost the power; felt it draining from her body in a hideous rush. Whirling around, she locked eyes with someone she hadn't planned on facing so soon. Brick. He stood there, his face solemn and pointed. If an adjective were assignable, it would be pensive. Blossom clenched her fists once her eyes wandered though, seeing that the hideous burn was still there.

As if sensing her gaze, or just knowing that would be where it was to be drawn, his fingers rose, tapping lightly at his cheek. "Ah. Yes. That nasty little burn. Thank-you, by the way, for this distinguishing feature."

"You brought it on yourself," Blossom retorted, denying that aspiration to bite her lip straight through. She relented to worrying away at the inside of it, feeling the flesh peel back as Brick posed a looming threat before her.

"What did I do then, Bossy Blossy," he sneered, and Blossom drew back at the nickname. Her features were clearly horrified, and she stuttered for a suitable come back. Brick merely smirked, watching her struggle repeatedly for something to say.

"You... Cornered me," she muttered lamely, her hands limp at her sides. "A-Anyways! You said I come here often. Well, how did you know that? Are you a stalker!" Blossom seemed to have decided he was, regardless of his response. Her eyes were alit with suspicion, and it was Brick's turn to look flabbergasted.

"What the hell-? No!" He stepped backwards, to a bench, and snagged a book that had been set carefully there. "Reading," he waved the book emphatically beneath her nose. "Ever heard of it?"

Raising a hand, she swatted the book away. "Only in passing," was her snarky reply, and she was surprised at the ghost of a smile that flickered across his face. "So. I've never seen you here... But you always see me?"

"Don't say it like that," Brick snorted, and he stuffed a hand in his pocket, the other staying protectively wrapped around the book. He almost looked embarrased. "I noticed you practicing your magic is all. I was just wondering what all you could do. I figured for once I could confront you."

Blossom nodded slowly, before shrugging. "Levitation, manipulation. I think anything big I might need... Something else..." She said it all softly, eyes darting around. It was bizarre. Someone knew about her powers. For once her sisters weren't in the loop about what was happening, yet a stranger was here before her, prying details...

"A spell," Brick responded, and Blossom jumped. He rolled his eyes, and stared at her. "Come on. I know you're smart, even if you are ignorant and naive."

Blossom shot him a pointed glare.

"It's true," he shrugged. "Whatever. You - you and your sisters, are witches." Blossom reeled back at that, and she felt something stir within her. A knot in her belly as it twisted and squirmed. It was hard to place, and Blossom found her lip between her teeth once more. It... She didn't know how to feel about this.

She had thought she alone possessed these powers, and that she, the intelligent one, was who was blessed, yet fatally cursed with these powers. She alone was to shoulder this burden, and possibly succumb to it from exhaustion of such stress, placed on her small shoulders...

Brick's eyes were averted downwards, and she saw a small glow around his neck. Blossom allowed herself a slight distraction from the emotions eating away within her, just to hear Brick mumbling what sounded like Latin.

Blossom wrinkled up her nose, and took a step forward. "Um? Brick?" She heard the other swear loudly, before he turned his gaze back to her. His gaze was cold. Calculating, and he seemed to be mulling something over.

"Blossom," he said suddenly, and she jumped, a little surprised at his usage of her name so casually. Considering there was no insult after it, anyways.

"Yes?" she asked slowly.

"I'd like to teach you! Or... Learn more with you in the least." Brick seemed a little distracted, and he busily tucked some stray hairs beneath his ever-present baseball cap. Blossom quirked an eyebrow at him, but admitted her interest.

"You know magic... Right?" She asked.

"Yes... I'm a Warlock." He gave a grudging smile.

"A male witch, right," Blossom supplied, though her curiosity was piqued by his change in expression. "Is there a difference other then the title? Like a waiter and a waitress?"

"There's a big difference," Brick grumbled, sounding almost childish. "A difference in power. Witches are rather dominant creatures, whereas Warlocks... Well. We have power, for sure, and some grow as powerful as a weaker Witch but." He sneered. "You women remain stronger."

Blossom stared a him, and gave a slow nod. "Okay... How much... How much do you know? About all this, I mean?"

"I know your powers activate whenever you hit puberty," he ignored her gasp and little 'aha!', "and that it passes on from your parents. Either one or both, I don't know. Your position could be different. It doesn't matter much, anyways." Blossom was no expert, but that sounded rather like a lie. Ignoring it, she began to tap her finger on her lips.

"I don't want to shock Buttercup and Bubbles. I have no idea whether they realize that their powers have awakened." She began pacing, and thinking once more. Again, that gnawing feeling persisted, but she quickly shook it off, not noticing Brick's gaze wander to his chest once more.

"Then you and I. That's fine with me." He swiped his bangs, and looked down at the watch at his wrist. "I have to go, though. Boomer will be done cooking dinner now."

"Wait," Blossom bade him pause, and drew closer to him. "Let me try something." She lifted her hand, pouring her power into her fingertips. She hesitantly lifted her small hand to his cheek, allowing her fingers to roam feather-light across his skin. He stilled, not even daring to breathe, to the point of where Blossom could practically feel him tensing along side her.

It was almost laughable.

"We could start an after school club," Blossom said softly, still intent on her work. "I used to talk to the librarians, when my reading level grew to high for what they offered in school, I was permitted into the high school library. My father always drove me... So I'd sit and talk to them after school hours. They're always willing to offer supervision to clubs."

Brick grunted in response, before clearing his throat. Blossom was done, though, and stepped back, giving a soft smile. "We'll say this is recompense for me searing off your face and wrongly accusing you."

For a moment a look that could've been guilt flickered on the male's face, but he was soon reaching up, touching his newly healed skin. He blinked a few times, surprised, and stared at her. "You healed it? I've been working on it for weeks now..."

"Well, you said it yourself, right," Blossom smiled, and stooped down. She slung her purse over her shoulder and began walking away. "Girls are better." She teasingly stuck out her tongue, and Brick felt another glow at his chest.

This time, however, he completely ignored it.

-(-o-)-

**Ugh. Not proud of this chapter.**

**And sorry for the long period in between. We have to write a 20 page senior paper to graduate. So. Writing is wearing a little thin right now. Thank-you, anyhow, for those who review and are reading. It means rather a lot.**


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